


leaving on a jet plane

by lunarcrowley



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Airplane Adventures, Banter, Being Soft For Each Other, Chubby Aziraphale, Fancy Gentleperson Aziraphale, Femme Crowley, First physical feelings, Flight attendant Crowley, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Crowley, They are both non-binary in my mind, Timeline tie-in, lowkey romance, mutual crushing, nonbinary aziraphale, secret meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarcrowley/pseuds/lunarcrowley
Summary: In 1955, Aziraphale is on the way to Dublin for work. Little does he know, Crowley just so happens to be on the same flight.





	leaving on a jet plane

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a fun thing that I wrote while on the airplane because I thought it would be cute. It’s definitely out of character, though, and for sure a self-indulgent thing. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

1955.

The Golden Age of air travel.

Aziraphale was making himself quite comfy in his spacious first class seat, and was settling in for a flight of a couple of hours from London to Dublin. Commercial jet airliners were a recent commodity, and it was certainly a treat to ride, a little vacation in itself. He had other ways to get where he needed, of course. But Aziraphale had seen the technological advancement up to this point, and was thrilled to at last be on board a commercial airplane. He had looked forward to this occasion ever since he had heard of the rise of air travel.

He leaned back against the soft leather, as he’d found the lever that reclined the seat. He sighed softly to himself, his hands folded in his lap. The seat next to him was surprisingly empty, as most seats on the jet were filled with excited and nervous travelers - although tickets were wildly expensive, so it made sense why there may be a few empty seats.

It was a shame, because he had looked forward to making friendly conversation with a human, if only to get their impressions of this new age. He didn’t entirely know what to expect, but of course there was a small lingering fear of the safety of this large metal bird, and if he might be discorporated over the Sea of Mann, even before arriving in Ireland.

Nonetheless, perhaps it was a risk worth taking to be one of the rare few to ride on a new commercial airliner, and Aziraphale was nothing if not indulgent. He pulled out a pristine but ancient book from his briefcase, and began to thumb through it idly, awaiting instruction from the crew members that were bustling about the roomy cabin.

A crackling announcement came over the intercom, announcing that flight attendants were to prepare for takeoff and the safety demonstration.

Aziraphale looked up curiously, eager to know how exactly the airplane worked. How would it preserve breathable and tolerable pressure conditions miles into the atmosphere? What were they to do if something unfortunately went wrong?

His questions would soon be answered. He sat forward, watching as a few flight attendants moved towards the front, where the door to the cockpit was. Aziraphale felt the soft touch of a hand against the seat backs as one of them moved down the aisle, and he looked to observe her. They were all women, as far as he could see, and dressed very clean and neat. Most of them looked alike, from what he had seen, all fitting the decade’s beauty expectations. He didn’t care too much for it, and really, wished that he’d see more people of diverse backgrounds in the industry. But then again, he felt that way about most industries.

“Could you put your seat upright for me, dear?”

The voice was light, crisp, and oddly familiar.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Aziraphale said softly, a little embarrassed, and clicked the lever to return his seat to the position he had found it in.

When Aziraphale looked to give a grateful smile to the woman, he was greeted with a strange surprise.

The person before him wore a dark blue uniform, a blazer cinched at the waist and a thigh-length pleated skirt. The outfit was complete with stockings, pointed navy high heels, a red, white and blue sash tied about the neck, and a small cap atop the head that looked rather like a British sailor’s. Their hair was a deep red, and clipped up beneath the cap, but resting in elegant curls about the face. The face was made up to be porcelain white, with rouge in the cheeks, and red tint adorning the lips. They blended in almost perfectly with the other flight attendants, but there was something all the more striking about them.

Despite the clear familiarly of the facial features, however dolled up, there were two signature pieces. Delicate, dark glasses rested atop the nose, concealing the eyes, which Aziraphale knew were those of a snake. The matching serpentine tattoo beside the ear was subtly covered by a white powder, and if Aziraphale hadn’t known it belonged there, he may not have noticed.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured, his expression brightening, blue eyes practically sparkling with a newfound excitement.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, dear,” came that crooning, soft voice, ever so slightly laced with a fake Irish accent.

Crowley nonchalantly indicated the metal plated name-tag affixed the the blazer’s breast, which read ‘Anne’.

No doubt, it was short for Anthony J. Crowley.

Aziraphale gave a slight nod, his lips curling into a small, pleased smile, and he tried in vain to hide it from his old... friend.

Crowley gave Aziraphale a knowing expression, even with the eyes hidden, and then a nod. Something about it said talk later, don’t draw attention. Curious. It was perhaps because either of their people might be on board, or maybe just because the two of them talking at that moment would just be out of place for the required etiquette.

And then, Crowley did that walk he was so good at, the saunter, but it was more elegant now. The hips still swayed easily, the posture upright and neat to fit the role he was filling, heels clicking softly against the carpeted ground of the aisle. Aziraphale found his gaze fixed on the rhythm of Crowley’s steps as moved to the front of the cabin. He desperately wanted to know why, what he was up to, why a flight attendant, other than for the fun of it?

Aziraphale’s heart was beating a little faster now, his cheeks warm, filled with that excitement he often felt from seeing Crowley again, that he’d felt for centuries now. Every time they came across one another, on purpose or by accident as they worked, it was thrilling to him. And always, along with the blossom of affection came the conflicting shame, guilt, the hardwired affliction of denying the sensitivity he had for his natural enemy. He was feeling especially weak in the knees after that encounter they had not ten years ago, when Crowley had saved both of their lives and taken the extra measure to rescue his most treasured possessions, his books of prophecy.

Although Aziraphale was now greatly distracted from his airplane adventure, he found the two situations meeting nicely as the captain’s voice over the intercom spoke of safety instructions, and ‘Anne’ began to model the proper way to fasten the seatbelt, which Aziraphale mimicked. This situation was so unusual, and you’d think he would have gotten used to running into Crowley at any turn after centuries of it.

Aziraphale took in Crowley’s precise hand gestures, as he indicated the exit doors, how to secure one’s oxygen mask in case of change in cabin pressure. Now he knew what to do to attempt to keep himself from being discorporated, and was glad for it, as well as for the supposed safety of the humans on board.

After that was done, Aziraphale attempted to focus on his book, until a moment would come when he could speak with Crowley. It was difficult to stay distracted, however, especially when he passed by again, and gave Aziraphale’s seat another gentle touch.

Eventually Aziraphale simply settled on gazing out of the small window, where he could see the runway and the late afternoon sunshine. After a few more announcements and demonstrations, the plane’s wheels began to move across the tarmac. It drove about like a car for several minutes, and all the while Aziraphale watched other planes taking off, luggage being loaded.

And then, the captain announced takeoff. The flight attendants secured themselves in fold up seats in the alcoves at either end of the cabin, and then there was a roaring. Aziraphale held onto the armrests of the seat, his eyes going a little wide. The plane rocketed down the runway for about a minute, before lifting suddenly into the air, hitting rough turbulence and then gaining altitude. It carried on in a rocky, tumbling course. Everyone exclaimed and held on for dear life, until at last, the plane seemed to reach a steady point high in the sky.

Aziraphale peered out the window, and saw wisps and towers of fluffy clouds, bright white in the sunshine. It was breathtaking. It looked more like Heaven than Heaven did. Down below he could see England, and the rapid shrinking of every topographical feature, until everything was tiny.

He didn’t know how long had passed with him staring down at the fascinating landscape, when he heard an unusual sound, and turned to see a small cart being pushed down the aisle by two flight attendants - one of which was Crowley.

Aziraphale waited in anticipation for the cart to reach him up at the front of the cabin. And once it did, he couldn’t help a small smile again in Crowley’s direction.

“What can I get for you, a— dear?” Crowley asked. He had almost called Aziraphale ‘angel’, but had quickly corrected it without a flicker of embarrassment in his face. Aziraphale’s heart had jumped into his throat at the notion.

“A merlot if you have it, please, and your finest cheeses,” Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to say. His refined palate was relentless, and he had heard about the fine dining on these flights, especially in first class.

“Of course,” Crowley said with a dramatic flourish, and poured him a glass of wine. He did it effortlessly, his movements fluid and easy despite the bumps the plane was causing. He passed Aziraphale the plastic glass, and then pulled out a pre-prepared cheese plate, complete with crackers, salami, and garnish.

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said delightedly.

Crowley gave him a nod, and then raised his eyebrows. Aziraphale took it to mean, take your chance to talk with me when you can. He nodded back.

Aziraphale wondered, in brief horror, if perhaps Crowley was here to doom them all.

The cart worked its way through the last few rows, and then headed back to the rear of the cabin. All the while, Aziraphale enjoyed his wine and his cheese platter, savoring every bite and every sip as he was known to do. He glanced back once or twice, and saw that Crowley had slipped behind a black curtain, likely the plane’s galley where the food and drink were stored, seeing as that seemed to be where the cart was parked.

Aziraphale was not a fast eater, and he wasn’t about to start now, even if he was itching to catch up with Crowley. He enjoyed every last bite of his meal, a few times looking about the aisle to see if Crowley had gone somewhere else. Once, he met Crowley’s gaze as the demon peered around the curtain with one eyebrow raised, clearly impatient.

Aziraphale only raised his glass to indicate that he still had several sips of wine left. He turned around and eventually drained the glass, the contents of the cheese platter well put away and his palate satisfied. He gathered up the plastic cup, napkins and the plate. Then he rose to his feet and shuffled out of his row, to take cautious steps down the aisle until he reached the galley. The trek was precarious, but the turbulence wasn’t as bad then as it had been a few minutes prior.

The lavatories were right next to the galley, and for a moment he pretended like he was going to use one. Crowley peered around the curtain once more, and gave a slightly surprised expression, his features softening immediately.

The other flight attendant was in the galley as well, so Aziraphale quickly came up with a cover.

“Oh, erm, Miss? Where might I put my trash?” He asked, with a tiny smile, and Crowley wrinkled his nose.

“That’s alright, sir, I can take it,” Crowley answered pleasantly, but his expression showed otherwise. He took the trash from Aziraphale’s hand and disposed of it.

“Oh, Beth?” Crowley called politely to his ‘coworker’ from within the galley, as Aziraphale waited. “You might give a quick check down the aisles, then I’ll collect the trash, yeah?” He said to her, and she gave him a small murmur of agreement.

Beth slipped out from behind the curtain. As soon as her back was turned, and no one was looking, Crowley gently took Aziraphale’s hand and beckoned him into the galley, and then he quickly adjusted the curtain to conceal them.

It was warmer back there, and there wasn’t a whole lot of standing room, but there was just enough for them to stand without touching.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his face now beaming. “It’s.. good to see you!” He exclaimed softly.

Crowley, now out of the public eye, leaned cooly against the insulated wall and crossed his arms. “Yes, angel, it’s a pleasure,” He said in a dismissive, breathy voice.

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked, his eyebrows raised. Then his expression fell into a frown. “You’re not going to crash this plane, are you!”

“No, no, angel, I’m just hitching a ride,” Crowley assured, rolling his eyes behind his glasses.

Aziraphale’s face relaxed again, and he looked pleased.

Although he put on a detached exterior, it was difficult for Crowley to keep it up when Aziraphale was smiling, his face so soft, his baby blue eyes so bright. He let slip a tiny smirk. “So, you’re headed to Dublin, too eh?” He said.

“Yes. I’ve got a few unfortunate sequences of events to prevent,” Aziraphale supplied. “And you?”

“Oh, you know, some dissonance to sow,” Crowley answered.

Aziraphale shook his head condemningly, as he always did anytime Crowley said anything like that. “I have to ask. Why the flight... attending?” He asked curiously.

“Oh, same reason as you, I figure,” He answered, pursing his reddened lips. “Wanted to see what it was like.”

Aziraphale grinned, happy to know that Crowley had felt the same interest and excitement that he had about the plane ride. “How nice,” Aziraphale said softly.

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley answered with a small sneer. But Aziraphale knew that he did think it was nice.

Aziraphale was silent for a moment, simply gazing at him with a little bit of wonder. His getup certainly was impressive.

Aziraphale was wearing his tan spotless coat, vest, trousers, dress shoes, bow tie, as he usually did, however slightly modified to suit the style expectations of the 50s. He was especially clean and dressy for the flight, his white tufty hair neatly combed, as it was apparently customary for people to dress up for these newfangled commercial plane rides.

Crowley knew that Aziraphale was checking him out, it was clear on his face, but he didn’t say anything about it, and neither did Aziraphale. In a more subtle manner, Crowley was taking in Aziraphale’s delicate, soft, chubby appearance which he so adored, but wouldn’t dare speak of, although he was dying to when they talked like this. His clothes always complimented him so nicely, made him look like a proper gentleman and a sweet woman at the same time, and undoubtedly, of course, his shamelessly unique self.

Eventually, Crowley cleared his throat and said point-blank, “So, have you got anything coming up where we can invoke the Arrangement?”

Aziraphale was instantly flustered by he question. “Well, I certainly hope not,” He said in a firm voice. He also hoped sincerely that Crowley would not ask him again about the holy water, because it confused and worried him too much to think about it right then, so much that just the thought made him wring his hands.

Crowley was unmoved by it. He was used to Aziraphale’s hesitance - but things always worked out in the same pattern, just in new ways.

“Since we’re both bound for Dublin, what do you say we stick together for our chores?” Crowley asked, the faintest smile in the corner of his mouth. “I’ll have the Bentley there.”

Aziraphale had been wondering how Crowley could bear any other mode of transportation other than his precious car,and now he knew that he could only do it as long as it was waiting on the other end. Aziraphale huffed at the idea of riding in the car with him again. He always found it dreadful, at least on the surface.

“Quite alright, thank you,” Aziraphale said stubbornly, but his expression was still soft.

“Mmm, you say that now,” Crowley said, shrugging.

Aziraphale only huffed once more, trying to keep back a smile. He looked away a little shyly.

“Best sit down now, before Beth comes back,” Crowley said, then, raising his eyebrows and gesturing Aziraphale back to his seat.

Aziraphale nodded. He was glad that Crowley wasn’t here to do ill, at least not aboard the aircraft. He was just glad to see him, in general.

As he walked back to his seat, his chest ached a little bit, at the thought of not spending time with Crowley once they landed in Dublin. He supposed he could ride in the Bentley just for a bit. Maybe have just one lunch meeting.

He walked back towards his seat and sat himself back down, opened his book and read a bit of it. The flight was only half over, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of it while he could. He felt oddly blissful, just knowing that Crowley was in the same metal bird, at the same altitude, breathing the same oxygen.

He didn’t need to sleep, but he rested his eyes a little just for the pleasure of it, since it looked like that was what everybody else was doing.

With his eyes closed, Aziraphale was struck by a little daydream, a brief imagining in which... behind that galley curtain...

Crowley pulled him in close, gave him a tender kiss, and left that red lip color as a faint stain on his own lips. He peeked at him over his sunglasses with those devilish eyes, cupped his hand gently against his cheek...

Immediately, Aziraphale opened his eyes and sat up straight. He’d never thought of anything like that before. Nothing so physical, so vulnerable. It made him positively burn for several long minutes, as he stared straight ahead at the seat in front of him.

How was he to process that? Why had he thought of it? Was it something in the air? This was a human desire, why did it rise so swiftly in him and stay there, catching his breath in his throat? Why now?

Little did he know, when he’d had his eyes closed, Crowley had sauntered by and caught a look at his peaceful expression. His softness. He’d had to quickly look away, because he’d thought something very similar about him, too.


End file.
